


If you know where we’re heading to, lead the way

by MrsOkita



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25312735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsOkita/pseuds/MrsOkita
Summary: Mark and Jackson exist in each other’s life for so long that everything changes, and yet remains the same.(Markson in a prelude and nine acts)
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Comments: 12
Kudos: 78





	If you know where we’re heading to, lead the way

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to make a sort of realistic friends to lovers development. By realistic I mean that they are going to love each other very much, but also hurt, and fight, and have other people along the way before realizing that they could be something completely different all that time.

**Prelude**

The overstatement of the century was probably the belief that people only drank alcohol after they were past the legal age to do so. Mark was surely not. He just turned seventeen less than a month ago and, since he turned _sixteen_ , he never went to a party that had no beer available in enough quantity to make people pass out kneeled on the bathroom floor.

He didn’t do that, though. For as long as he remembered, Mark was quiet. Not the type of quiet that hates people and social interactions, but the kind of quiet that is just plain awkward. So he liked to drink beer until his mind was fuzzy, and walls and people’s clothes and dancing bodies and lights mixed in a kind of a happy blur. Some sort of weird synesthesia that Mark couldn’t explain at all because he was too busy _living_ it.

All in all, his drunken state wasn’t, in the end, much different than his normal, sober self if looked from an outsider point of view. Mark was seventeen and drinking quietly in a corner of a high school friend’s house whose parents went out on vacation, just like in the movies. He always thought that these kind of things didn’t happen in real life.

It was loud and messy, with people half laughing too much, half yelling, with lots of sloppy kisses everywhere. Mark was supporting his weight on the living room wall, thinking of absolutely nothing relevant, looking at a group of friends playing spin the bottle while embarrassing themselves with dares that usually involved stripping. That was when something bumped him from the back and grabbed his upper arm in a firm grip that had Mark jumping.

“What the-?”

Turning his body around, Mark’s eyes met Jackson’s. He sighed in relief and slight annoyance, the kind he also usually did when Jackson stopped talking after pestering him throughout the night with totally irrelevant issues.

“You scared the hell out of me”.

“Sorry”, Jackson answered, but he didn’t look sorry at all. The hand that was not firmly holding Mark was firmly holding an unknown, colourful drink. His fingers were fidgeting around the cup as if it was too hot to carry, and Mark frowned.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing”, came the quick reply; too quick, even, to be taken any seriously. Jackson pushed Mark’s arm a bit to the front to cover his own face behind it. “What would go on? A party is going on. I’m just, like…”, he paused, looking over Mark’s frame for a second, “chilling”.

Jackson’s gaze was focused on anywhere else that was not Mark, or Mark’s suspicious glance, so Mark decided to follow it up to see what was so interesting yet so scarring in that party that made Jackson hide behind him like a frightened puppy. He saw one more person taking off his shirt because of spin the bottle, another one thinking it was a good idea to drink pure vodka in one gulp - cheered by a group of not so sober either friends -, until his eyes fell on someone chatting with a bunch of girls close to the bathroom door. Someone who attended by Song Ga-yeon.

 _Oh_.

Mark understood everything now. He turned his face to Jackson,

“Are you seriously hiding from her?”

Jackson almost coughed his drink out. He looked back at Mark, possibly for the first time since he appeared out of nowhere to grasp at him like a bindweed, and moved his arm over to Mark’s shoulder, pulling him in to say,

“Why would you think that? Can’t I just enjoy a party with my best, best friend?”

Jackson’s breath smelled of strong alcohol, the way it possibly would if he used it to brush his teeth; the words came out in warm puffs of air over Mark’s face and it was. Too. Damn. Close. Mark pushed him by his chest, making Jackson fall back one or two steps to steady his balance again. He got back to Mark’s personal space seconds after, not seeming bothered at all.

“Why don’t you just go talk to her?”, Mark questioned, then, because he didn’t really understand. Jackson had no problem with people, no problem with talking, and surely no problem with looking good at parties to attract quite a few interested girls, “What could she even say that would be so bad?”

Jackson groaned with a mix of frustration and desperation that matched well his troubled expression, “That she doesn’t talk to short, annoying guys with stomach hair?”

Mark drank more beer to see if it could drown his will of slapping Jackson’s head. 

“Even if it was a problem, I doubt she would know about your stomach hair to throw it at your face right now”.

“She won’t”, Jackson confirmed, shaking his head along. He took another sip of his drink, full of melted ice by this point. His eyes were round and shining with a drunken sparkle as he stared directly at Mark’s. “She won’t, indeed, but _I_ would. I would, and then I would be self-conscious while I talk to her and know that it would be just a moment of lost hope until she finds out about it”. He stopped for a second, apparently searching in his inebriated mind for the right words to use. Mark could relate, because he felt that difficulty even when there was no alcohol involved. “To, you know, throw at my face”.

Mark groaned in disbelief. Without thinking twice, he used his free hand to pull Jackson’s shirt up to his chest. Jackson’s squeal out-tuned every other sound in the party for an instant, and even some drunken heads in the spin the bottle game turned to see what the hell was that. Mark let go of Jackson’s shirt as quick as his motion to lift it up,

“There’s barely any hair there”, he stated, then, plain and simple. Jackson was bracing himself as if he was getting protection from a sexual assault. Mark rolled his eyes again, “Just _go_ ”.

Then Jackson slowly dropped the exaggerated drama, let his hands down, and sighed. “If I suck”, he started, stopping right away to frown in emphasys before amending a “which I will”, that Mark preferred not to respond to, “Be here with a strong drink waiting for me, will you? Then let me get very pissed drunk, and hold my hair when I go to the toilet to throw up later, and bring me back home safe. Promise”.

It was the stupidest promise Mark was ever asked to make, even if he was counting the one he made to a friend in elementary school about being the first ones to know if the other ever finished an eraser. To start with, Jackson didn’t even have that much hair that would go in the way of vomiting freely if he wanted to.

“I promise”, Mark answered, though, because he did stupid things around, with or because of Jackson all the time, anyway. “Now get the hell out of here before someone else makes a move before you”.

* * *

I **If you understand, explain it to me**

“I don’t understand half of this”, Jackson groaned, bumping his forehead against the table, his arms stretching over notebooks and printed copies of scientific articles. “I’m so going to fail this test, how am I going to explain this to my mom?”

“You’re almost nineteen”, Mark replied, and the way Jackson lifted his head a bit to look at him indicated that he didn’t think it was any helpful. “She knows you’re responsible. You’ll work things out”.

To be quite honest, Mark wasn’t very sure about working out his own grades, let alone Jackson’s. Considering that Jackson was the one who always had positive words of encouragement to offer others, however, it felt almost like a duty to fulfil this role of making him the one encouraged, for once. It wasn’t a very easy task, though, because Mark didn’t know well what _could_ he say that would make things better. Jackson groaned once more, passed a hand through his hair, then said,

“I can’t concentrate”.

Mark looked at him from his bed. He didn’t know when exactly he started to give up his own study table of his own bedroom to Jackson. Especially because Jackson had a precisely equal one in his, that went totally unused by a pile of what he called ‘not so dirty yet clothes’ and beer cans that they always forgot to throw out with the trash. Jackson passed a hand through his hair and Mark was almost diverting his attention back to the essay he was supposed to write until monday morning when he heard,

“Mark”. Just like that, with an end stop. “I kissed Jooheon”.

As much as silence was an usual response from Mark to Jackson’s non stopping babbling and nothingness, this time was different. It felt heavier and consuming, almost suffocating. Mark’s eyes were still focused on the blank pages of his paper and he knew he should just _say_ something, but no words seemed to want to leave his lips. He wondered for a second if it would be rude to say nothing at all.

“Are you going to say something?”, Jackson asked, excruciatingly quiet, long minutes before, in a voice so low and unsure that seemed like three years of friendship were crumbling down such as a card pyramid against strong wind. Mark hated that tone. He had to grab things before they crashed on the floor.

“I…”, he started, and looked up to actually meet Jackson’s eyes. They seemed a mix of expectancy and despair. Mark was still lost for words. “Okay”, he settled, taking a deep breath. The tension in Jackson’s shoulders lifted considerably. “When did that happen?”

“Last weekend, when I went over his place”, he said, as if a weight was being removed from his chest just by talking about it. It had been a _week_ ago, that should be eating him inside like a worm. “We…”, Jackson paused, looking like he was assessing if he should continue, if Mark would be able to hear what he was about to say without freaking out or being an ass about it. Mark wanted to be reassuring, to say encouraging words like _please, do continue, I’m your best friend_ , but he honestly was as much in doubt about himself as Jackson. He heard Jackson clear his throat, and apparently his faith in Mark as well as he continued, “We were just doing the usual, you know? Talking, drinking beer, playing video game, then I lost a match and I pretended to wrestle him, just…”, a pause, a long breath, a lick of lips; Jackson’s gaze diverted to the window, “It was just playing around, but somehow it became, I don’t know, really sexual? He was breathing right into my ear, so I grabbed the back of his head and kissed him”.

“Just like that?”, Mark asked, because it had to be something else to randomly kissing one of your male friends out of nowhere. Jackson looked back at him and shrugged,

“I wasn’t really thinking at that time”.

Mark wanted to question some things, he truly did. How some pretending wrestling becomes really sexual? What really sexual even means, for an instance? Mark just didn’t know if he wanted to hear the answers. He didn’t ask for grossy details when Jackson went out with girls, so it shouldn’t be so different now; he should focus on what was more important:

“And what did he do? Jooheon”.

Jackson turned the chair around so he could cross his arms over its back. It took only a few seconds that seemed like a long time for Mark to wait; the blank paper he had to finish was tossed aside as if it wasn’t nearly as important as it was five minutes ago, before they were abducted into this parallel reality in which Jackson suddenly was kissing guys and coming out to him. Or so Mark imagined was what he was doing, he was still not sure of anything that was happening in that moment.

“He kissed me too”, Jackson shrugged again, and three years were not three days, so Mark could tell perfectly well that the apparent nonchalant way of saying this was the best Jackson Wang act to pretend he was not fucking confused about it. One of Mark’s eyebrow rose inquiretly. Jackson sighed. “We… messed around a bit”.

“Messed around?”

If someone would tell Mark he would have this conversation beforehand, or if Jackson would have prepared him, like starting with a heads up line such as _I have something important to tell you_ , maybe Mark wouldn’t feel so absurdly lost or incredibly stupid. Jackson said no word to answer him; his right hand did an air motion in a clear and international indication of a handjob, and Mark’s eyes widened despite himself. His throat felt so dry out of shock that he felt the urge to clean it.

“So is this…”, Mark started, not even sure of where he was heading to, “Is this a thing, then?”

Jackson pressed his fingers against his eyes and groaned, “I don’t fucking know. I keep thinking that I may have screwed one of my best friendships. He hasn’t spoken to me once since the weekend, zero text messages. And I’m too self aware to send something too”.

Mark could understand the problem there, but for it to be something he could try to help Jackson with, some things should be clearer inside of his brain. “I don’t mean you and Jooheon. I mean you and guys”.

Perhaps this was the inflection moment. Jackson visibly swallowed nothing, possibly because this answer was more meaningful than talking about any occasional sex experience with Jooheon he could have. Mark could see what was in stake for Jackson here: he had maybe lost a friend and could possibly lose other; all in the span of two weeks, all for the same reason. If it was Mark, he would be absurdly torn between saying the truth or hide it for the rest of his life. Considering that it happened one week ago, even, maybe Jackson was too.

“Possibly”, Jackson said, then, as small and quiet as he was when all this conversation started. “It’s not like I don’t enjoy going out with girls”, he amended, quicker than he should have, almost a justification, “I just guess I feel attracted to boys too. I’ve been thinking about it”, he paused, a nervous hand passing through his hair followed by a forced laughter, “Some hard times in the locker room after fencing practice”.

Mark’s lips twisted in an amused smile that could have been a full laughter if the subject were a little less serious or a little less _real_.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”, Mark interrogated, although he had a fair guess of the reason. Jackson’s response was another question, more firm and secure than earlier:

“Are you ok with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”, he answered, not much time later, a bit offended, because whoever Jackson was drooling over on locker rooms didn’t concern him at all. Besides, Mark was the one with the more open minded family, and proud lesbian sister. Jackson smiled at his words, a clean, large smile, different of the other tense ones he was trying to muster throughout the whole conversation. A real smile.

He pushed his chair closer to the bed where Mark was sitting and took one of his hands in his, squeezing it,

“Thank you”, Jackson’s voice was unusually deep, “It means a lot to me”.

* * *

II **If it matters, stop ruining it**

To say that things didn’t change after Jackson told him that he was attracted to boys was a big, fat lie. Maybe not in the day Mark told him that he didn’t have a problem with it; that day he was being as honest as he could be, with as much time as he had to think the news through. Less than one week later, though, things started to get weird.

It was not Jackson’s fault at all, Mark was aware of that. Jackson treated Mark the way he always had, if not better, now that he knew he could be his true self entirely by Mark’s side with no judgement whatsoever. The difference lied in Mark, in some self-motivated monster he began cultivating with uneasiness and a misplaced prejudice he didn’t know he had.

Mark was fidgety. He knew it, Jackson knew it, his friends knew it, _their_ friends knew it. He felt uncomfortable with small gestures he never thought twice about before, like Jackson’s usual hugs or usual touchness or usual complete dismissal of personal space. He started considering if Jackson’s hand on his shoulder was lasting more time than it should, or what people on campus would think if they saw Jackson thrown over him to tell some juicy news.

It was absolutely no different than how their friendship worked until that day, really, and the worst part was that the rational side of Mark’s brain _knew_ it, explained to him before he went to sleep and after he woke up each morning, but Mark was still diverting from Jackson’s hands the next day like it was something else entirely.

The first two weeks after the conversation went like that. Jackson was also not stupid to not realize that Mark was acting weird; he gave him long glances with frowned eyebrows and firm expression wrinkles from time to time, but chose to say nothing. Maybe he was expecting that Mark would come along with his own bullshit sooner than later, and everything would return to normal without needing any personal confrontation. Maybe he was expecting too much, because, after the first two weeks, Mark started to avoid Jackson for good.

Avoid Jackson was not a simple task, especially since they lived in the same apartment, shared the same bathroom, the same kitchen, and the same living room. Mark managed to be always busy with college or busy with part time jobs or busy hanging out with friends Jackson didn’t know or busy sleeping or busy doing whatever, just something that could be used as a poor excuse to not spend so much time near Jackson anymore. It was awful in a way that he sometimes had to restrain himself from texting Jackson to ask for company to drink some coffee after a particular tiring day, to just be able to have a friend with whom he could vent out about damn college deadlines and pushover bosses.

Jackson texted him still, more in the beginning of Mark’s stupid flee than after, and all of Mark’s answers were along the lines of _can’t today, don’t think i’ll be able to see you, sorry, bro_. It felt like he was stooding up a date, if that didn’t make matters worse. He started to go out more with Taehyung to skate or just to hang out, and, on the other hand, he saw, through photos on social media networks, Jackson going out more with Jinyoung and Jaebum to do things they used to do together. To do things _friends_ do together, if Mark wasn’t so put upon everything that was so casual before.

In a few days more than a month after, it almost seemed two strangers sharing an apartment for convenience. They commented casualties such as the weather in some mornings and said goodnight before sleeping at some nights. Even the ones in which Mark didn’t sleep at all, in which he stayed up turning from side to side wondering how the hell they got where they were and how the hell it seemed he let go of his best friend in the moment he most needed him.

Things fell apart on a September friday night, Jinyoung’s birthday party. Of course Jackson would be there, considering that Jinyoung was much more his friend now than Mark, and of course Mark had to be there as well, because Jinyoung had nothing to do with all the shit that was happening. If anything, Jinyoung even went after him to inquire what was going on, since Jackson wasn’t inclined to talk about it no matter how many times he asked.

Mark wasn’t very inclined either, so eventually Jinyoung decided that they should just figure it out by themselves. Which would probably never happen, not in one lifetime, if depended on Mark, because somehow it was starting to feel like their friendship was something so broken that he couldn’t mend it anymore to stop sounding as a past tense: _when we were friends, when we hanged out, when we lived together_.

But Mark should know better. He should, really, because no matter how fucked up he could be, Jackson was a stubborn, obstinate son of a bitch, possibly very, very hurt in that moment as well. So hurt that he basically drowned in half of Jinyoung’s vodka - despite Jaebum’s desperate attempts to stop him once in a while, hiding bottles behind the sofa - moments before he dragged Mark by his arm to the balcony, where he stopped to point a finger at him with the angriest expression Mark ever remembered seeing on his face,

“When are you going to stop running away from me?”

Mark stuttered a bunch of non-words; he wasn’t expecting the confrontation, so blunt and hostil and _honest_. He lied, “I’m not running away from you”.

Jackson gave a loud, bitter laugh, “Well, why does it seem like I’m living with a complete stranger for the past month, then? Do you have any deadly disease you’re sparing my feelings of or something?”

It was pure sarcasm, Mark could hear it piercing through his ears. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at that because he didn’t really want to argue with Jackson. He was afraid that the arguing could become a fist fight, and he was more afraid of doubting if a fist fight wasn’t exactly what they needed right now.

“I’ve been busy”, he found himself saying; it sounded stupid even to him. _Jackson_ rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, right, busy being an homophobic asshole”.

Now _that_ bothered Mark. He couldn’t possibly deny it, but he didn’t want to hear it. It felt more real than it did inside of his head, where he was just busy saying to himself that he needed a time to adjust to this new, unexpected reality. It was not because he had a problem with Jackson liking guys. Or was it?

“Where did you get that from?”, he yelled, so much for keeping things calm. From the corner of his eyes he could see their friends sending worried glances to the balcony. Now they were even wrecking Jinyoung’s birthday. Great.

If Mark was being honest, he knew that Jackson could make an entire list to answer him, and all of it would be true and reasonable. Instead, Jackson just pushed him more,

“What other explanation do you have, then? Are you going to lie to my face and say we’re perfectly normal with each other? And that all this bullshit didn’t happen, I don’t know, _right after_ I said I kissed a dude?”

Mark swallowed a bunch of discomfort and hurtful truths. He didn’t know what to say. Even saying that he was sorry felt too small after an entire month of silence.

“It’s not like that”, he tried, no more than a murmur. But it was. It really was, and it poured over him like cold water. He saw Jackson’s jaw tighten, then heard him groan out the anger he possibly couldn’t keep inside and Mark honestly thought he was going to get hit right now. Right in front of their friends, in the middle of a party.

Instead Jackson grabbed his face with speed and indignation, and kissed him. _Kiss_ , in fact, was perhaps a metaphor. Jackson pressed his lips into Mark’s with the strength to make a point, which one Mark wasn’t exactly sure as his mind went blank with the surprise of Jackson’s wet and firm lips against his. It lasted less than two seconds until they were gone, replaced by Jackson’s pissed off face and grave voice that shouted at him,

“Get that stick out of your ass!”

And then he turned his back to Mark and left him there, just like that.

* * *

III **If you don’t want to, don’t do it**

“Ok”, Jackson said, leaned on the kitchen balcony, paper and pen in hand, “Are we missing someone?”

“Jinyoung?”, Mark tried, words muffed by a mouth half full of bread. Jackson snorted,

“Jinyoung is a nerd ass, he says he’s staying to study”. Mark laughed, for no reason except the fact that it was kind of funny how Jackson managed to get pissed at someone who was doing what was _right_. If Mark was very honest with himself, he was also not so inclined to spend his extended holiday going on a camping trip with a lot of people instead of sleeping the days off on their living room sofa. A sign of age, of course; he would be jumping on that idea in two times if it was about five years ago. 

But Jackson wasn’t getting much older, apparently, because he was so excited about it - also trying to talk Mark through a lot, saying how thrilling and adventurous it was going to be, despite Mark believing they were just going to get really wasted most of the time, or full of mosquito bites, or _both_ \- and Mark hadn’t the heart to say no.

“Let me see it”, he came around the balcony, stealing a glance at the list of names written by Jackson’s kind of messy handwriting. Jinyoung’s name was crossed with an angry face sketched by its side, which made Mark smile until he saw the next one below. He rose an eyebrow, “Jessica’s going?”

“Yes”, Jackson answered, quickly adding, “Don’t blame me, your brother called her”.

Mark scrunched his nose at that. He had dated Jessica for seven months at third year of college, until they started to fight every single week for every stupid reason - like which flavour of pizza they were going to eat while watching movies, that turned into loud yelling about _you never really listen to what I want_ \- and they decided to quit it for a moment to think their relationship through. Mark discovered, in that period apart, that he was much better being single, after all, so he turned down Jessica’s quite persistentes attempts to get them back together later.

His family liked her, as much as some of his friends, so they stayed on good terms for of the most time, except when she still saw any form of attention or simple conversation as a sparkle of hope to resume from where they ended.

“Should I really go?”, Mark sighed, the best suffering expression he could muster showing on his face. Jackson laughed, that stupid bastard of a friend.

“Don’t make that face. It’s quite adorable, she’ll fall for you again”.

Mark frowned more, and was about to say how awfully bad that trip was sounding so far when Jackson’s phone vibrated on the balcony, Jooheon’s name blinking white on the the screen. Jackson picked it up with a loud and cheerful ‘Hey, man, what’s up?’, and it was kind of awkward to stay still hearing someone else’s conversation, so Mark went back to the kitchen balcony to continue to prepare their food supplies.

Jooheon, for once, was as excited with the camping trip as Jackson was. He went to their apartment basically the whole week; gathering things, planning, fighting about who was going to drive when he needed to catch some sleep. He was a nice guy, and got along well with Jackson for years now, which was a deed few managed to do. When Mark saw Jackson ending the call, a small bit of sudden enlightenment and growing curiosity made him ask,

“Ever thought of dating him?”

Jackson turned to him with one eyebrow arched. “What? Who?”

Mark motioned with his head to the cellphone placed back on the balcony.

“Jooheon?”, Jackson asked, frowning, looking at the direction Mark was implying, “Why would I?”

“Well, if I remember correctly”, Mark started, wrapping up one more tuna sandwich, “you did give him a handjob when you were eighteen”.

Jackson laughed out loud at that, supporting both hands on the balcony while he stared back at Mark. “Well, if that’s that, I gave him a _blowjob_ two weeks later. It doesn’t necessarily…”

Mark cut him before he could go on, eyes wide, “Are you serious? You never told me that.”

Not that the handjob hadn’t be traumatic enough at the time. Mark remembered that he hadn’t been too prone on _knowing_ things with much details. Even more, the only bit he knew made him self-conscious and idiotic enough for whole months. Jackson hanged on to that, pointing an accusatory finger at him,

“You were not talking to me back then”.

And Mark replied with a heartfelt “I’m sorry”, like they were back to years ago, guilty descending onto him all over again. Jackson dismissed it with his hands,

“Forgiven and forgotten”, turning around to the list of names and the other one filled with things they should pack. He didn’t look at Mark while he concluded, “And Jooheon is straight”.

Which, honestly, didn’t make any sense in Mark’s mind. He frowned, trying to figure out how someone kisses and gets a handjob from a guy, to receive a _blowjob_ two weeks later, and can say that is straight. Maybe Mark was missing something there. Like when he and Jackson made up after those awful months of Mark being an ass, when he was left alone dumbly confused at Jinyoung’s birthday party.

“To think about it”, Mark mentioned, more an own remembrance than an actual point, “you actually even kissed _me_ at that time too”.

Jackson laughed as loud as he did when Mark just recalled his little _rendez-vous_ with Jooheon. “I didn’t steal your gay kiss virginity or anything like that. It was just to piss you off”, then he turned around once again, a devious smile on his lips, and Mark had one second to think that maybe this conversation was going to really weird places before he could hear Jackson continue, “But, if you’re interested in that, I may know someone who’d be willing to”.

Jackson raised their trip name list, flipping it on air for emphasis, and Mark’s brain short circuited.

“What?”, he heard himself saying, a hurried, shocked voice he barely recognized leaving his mouth. “Who?”

But Jackson was already leaving the kitchen, smug smile, mockingly waving his hand bye. Mark got up after him and into the living room, where Jackson just sat on the floor, surrounded by scattered clothes, utensils, and an empty suitcase. Mark insisted,

“Who?”

“Why, oh, Mark”, Jackson was almost singing the words, so visibly amused, slowly folding one pair of socks, “do you think I tell on my friends like that?”

Mark really, really wanted to punch him. “ _I’m_ your friend”.

Jackson laughed again, continuing to pack the suitcase without minding Mark’s presence, “Yeah, you are, but I’m loyal to people”.

Walking over to where Jackson was, Mark dodged a few pants and a pair of toothbrushes, sat cross-legged by his side and grabbed the names list from the floor. His eyes passed by it, name by name. So was there a guy who wanted to _kiss_ him? _Why_? And, mostly, not only he wanted to kiss Mark, he actually went through the trouble of telling _Jackson_ that. To what? See if he was available? If he was into guys?

It was intriguing, if Mark could use that word to describe the fact that one of his male friends had very non-platonic intentions about him. Allegedly. Mark read the names four times already and couldn’t think of anyone who ever gave any sign of being interested in being more than his friend.

“Are you really not going to tell me?”, he asked, frustrated, after the fifth time. Jackson kept up folding clothes beside him as if he didn’t just drop a brand new, life changing information. He got his head up to look at Mark, seeming way more serious than before,

“What difference would it make? Do you want to lose your gay kiss virginity at our camping, by any chance?”

And Mark wasn’t much sure of what made him reply, defiant, “I might”.

He clearly saw Jackson’s eyes widening as if he had been suddenly switched by a purple skin alien. Understandably. Mark wasn’t very sure himself what he was saying, except that he _was_ curious. He just didn’t know if his curiosity was only about discovering who that person was or if it involved perhaps granting his wishes.

“Seriously?”, Jackson asked, lastly, eyes still a bit wide, but now with a hint of suspicion.

“Why not?”

“You freaked out when I _told_ you about kissing a dude”, Jackson retorted, the surprise now gone and replaced by a clear certainty that Mark was bullshiting him. “If that guy really kissed you, you’d be running out of camp the next day”.

Mark rolled his eyes. At this point, he had already forgotten how they got so mixed up in the past, for a start, “I was _nineteen_. And stupid”. So he added, just to affirm himself, “I didn’t freak out when you kissed me afterwards”.

“That wasn’t a kiss!”, Jackson exclaimed in a heartbeat, throwing his hands in the air on a wide gesture of exasperation before adding, as a second thought, “I mean, technically it was, but not a real one”.

Mark scoffed. “Ok, then”, he stopped, not really buying it. “So try me”.

Jackson looked back at him again, brows furrowed, narrowed eyes scrutinizing Mark like he was a scientific experiment whose numbers suddenly flew way out ot its margin of error, “What? Me?”

“Why not?”, Mark shrugged. He felt like he was saying that a lot.

“I can’t kiss you”, Jackson answered, pretending to have his attention back to packing his clothes, but actually folding the same one for the third time. Mark decided not to comment on it. “You’re my friend”.

Mark buffed, “So is Jooheon. That’s the lamest excuse”.

Jackson threw away that one same t-shirt into the suitcase, and the way it landed tousled on a corner indicated that all the endless time Jackson took smoothing it was to waste, “You’re different”.

“How so?”, Mark insisted, because in a way their conversation seemed to be slowly turning into a small fight, and he was not looking forward to lose it. He couldn’t remember well the last time they really fought - not the usual bickering about misplaced clothes in the living room or unwashed dishes - since they were nineteen, and it also involved kissing guys. Maybe they had a pattern; Freud possibly could explain.

Jackson snorted, then grabbed the names list again and pushed it against Mark’s chest with more force than necessary while saying, as a clear end of conversation,

“It’s Peniel. If you want to kiss a guy so much, go after him”.

* * *

IV **If it bothers, speak about it**

“You won’t believe the day I ha-”, was the cue to panic. Mark’s hand was halfway into Peniel’s jeans, draped over him on the couch, a long-forgotten movie playing distantly on the television. He jumped at the sudden sound of Jackson’s voice and of the scratchy, annoying wheezy front door opening, but something about the abrupt end of the sentence may have told him it was a bit too late to play it cool.

He risked a glance at Peniel - quickly closing up the buttons of his white shirt - before actually facing Jackson, one hand halted on the doorknob, other carrying a bag of something that clinked like glass - possibly beer. His face had closed up with some clear emotion that Mark couldn’t describe precisely, but it ringed somewhere between surprise and anger. Not embarrassment, which would’ve been better. Mark could deal with embarrassment. They dealt with it plenty of times already, heading into bedrooms of teenagers full of libido without bothering to knock first. Mark had dealt with mastubartion, porn movies, nakedness, and even some questionable usage of house objects. _This_ , though.

This was something else. Perhaps dealing with all of that embarrassment earlier on their lives was even what made that moment much worse, because it had no impact whatsoever on making Jackson blush or close the door or say he’s very sorry for interrupting. He just stood there, on the front door, and the silence dragged on for what seemed forever until one of them opened his mouth to finally speak.

“Er…”, the throat was cleaned, hesitant, “‘Night, Jackson”.

And it was Peniel, giving an uncomfortable smile, tugging at the end of his shirt to possibly try to hide the hard on visible on his pants. Jackson finally seemed to move at that, as if awaken from a trance, but he barely even looked at Peniel’s face or returned the temptative welcoming smile the guy was awkwardly offering.

“Night”, he countered, dry and raspy, closing the front door behind him and heading to the kitchen with no further words.

Mark sighed, eyes accompanying Jackson’s figure stepping away and disappearing from his sight. Then Peniel seized the moment of being just the two of them again in the room to say,

“I should probably go now”. Mark only nodded in response. He walked Peniel to the door.

“I’m sorry about that”, he murmured, hand on the doorknob, not even sure why he was making an effort of lowering his voice at all, as if Jackson could have some extra-human hearing and be eavesdropping from the kitchen. Peniel shrugged.

“No biggie”, he leaned in to give Mark a quick goodbye peck on his lips. “Good luck there”.

Mark laughed at Peniel’s words and supportive smile, and didn’t resist kissing him one more time before he left. It was good, what Mark was having with him. Light and with no pressure. Peniel was a nice guy, and they were friends for a considerable amount of time before Mark discovered that he had interest in something beyond friendship and decided to give it a go, at the camping trip they went to six months ago. What was even more important was that Mark has never been with a man before, so it was all new and exciting, and Mark discovered a whole new spectrum of his libido that it was a shame that he didn’t find it sooner.

Thinking in retrospect, perhaps it was a small bit of denial that made him so uncomfortable about Jackson’s coming out when they were still in their teens, like he could choke it down his own interests, mirrored in somebody else’s.

Also, speaking of Jackson… Mark closed his eyes for a while after Peniel was out, and braced himself to gather the energy for going after him in the kitchen. When he got there, Jackson had a long neck opened, taking a generous sip as he eated a piece of reheated pizza that they bought yesterday night. They didn’t have a table at their small kitchen, so Jackson was eating standing against the balcony instead, possibly to avoid walking back to the living room at any cost.

Mark leaned on the door frame. He thought he would have to be the one to speak first, which he hated in every circumstances, but Jackson was _fuming_ and didn’t even spare a look at Mark when he spoke, hard and demanding,

“I thought we had an agreement on that”.

“We do”, Mark agreed, slow and steady. It was not like he was purposely trying to get on Jackson’s nerve, things just happened. And Jackson was home early that day, usually his night shift for extra money at the local convenience store ended way past eleven p.m., even if originally it went up only until ten. “We were watching a movie”.

He heard Jackson snort loudly, then finally turn to stare at Mark, one eyebrow raised in sarcasm as he retorted, “That would be pretty difficult with you _on top_ of him”.

Mark rolled his eyes at that. “C’mon, now that sounds like you’re my father. We agreed on no sex on shared spaces, we were not having sex, period”.

And Jackson narrowed his eyes at him like he was being personally offended, as if Mark was somehow defying his intelligence and good sense skills. Mark didn’t understand the big deal that much; he even thought that dating Peniel would be way smoother than the other girls he had over, because Jackson actually already _liked_ the guy. They were friends, as much as Peniel even told Jackson first when he felt the urge of putting his tongue in Mark’s mouth, in the first place.

“Yeah”, Jackson retorted, then, taking another large sip of beer before continuing, “but just because I came in, wasn’t it? It wouldn’t even need a look at Peniel’s _pants_ to realize”.

If the situation was lighter and more playful, like it should have been, c’mon, they were not talking about a murder here, Mark could have mockling asked why Jackson was looking at Peniel’s pants, for a start. But it was not, and he saw Jackson biting the end of his pizza with strength and anger; it would possibly cause some indigestion later on. He sighed,

“This is my house too, so maybe we should review our agreement”.

Possibly the wrong call, if Jackson’s sudden wide eyes and hanged open mouth was something to go by. Mark braced himself for the words that followed next,

“Well, that didn’t happen when _I_ had someone over, like, never. You know why? Because I was careful and respectful enough to not fuck things up with you. Apparently I’m the only one who takes our goddamn friendship seriously”.

And that stung, because wasn’t it too much? Yes, so maybe Mark got a little carried away with Peniel that night on the couch, but it was not like Jackson walked on him balls deep into someone. Also, it felt definitely not fair putting their whole friendship at bay because of some light slip.

“Are you really saying that now?”, Mark replied, letting the anger that Jackson was feeling brush on him as well, “Don’t you think you are overreacting a bit here?”

“No, I fucking am not”, Jackson retorted, voice raising some octaves higher, “because you really ignored everything we agreed on, decided to dry hump your boyfriend on our fucking couch, and can’t even _apologize_ for it”.

The torrent of Jackson’s words ended on a loud, pissed yell; his chest moved heavily along with his respiration, and Mark just stared back at him in disbelief and indignation. It was just plain absurd how Jackson decided to lash on him like he was the epitome of morality and rightful decisions in life, judging and treating him as if Mark was the shittiest person alive.

Suddenly the anger merged with a pain that wasn’t necessarily rational, because after so many years living together they were no longer teenagers in college with a fun, unpretentious roommate life. They were adults, with adult needs and issues that maybe didn’t adjust in conjunction anymore. So Mark opened his mouth to speak, and he hoped his voice didn’t sound as hurt as he felt,

“Maybe we should just find different houses to live in, then”.

And Jackson’s eyes widened just quickly enough when he heard it, before his brows furrowed and he grabbed his house keys with strong force and loud noise back from the balcony.

“Maybe we should”, he confirmed, rispid, and Mark had no will to stop him when he threw the empty beer bottle in the trash, walked past him and completed, “I’m sleeping at Jinyoung’s tonight. Try not to do any orgy on our kitchen balcony while I’m out”.

When he just heard Jackson leaving, Mark discharged his rage with a punch on the kitchen door. His fingers itched with the impact; his throat was burning, his chest compressing with unwanted tears he fought hard to swallow. He opened one of the beer bottles Jackson had brought and left behind, took a big sip at once, and hopped that the alcohol would drown his urge to cry.

* * *

V **If you feel it, say it**

“I can’t believe one of us is getting married”, Yugyeom spoke after a moment of general contemplative silence at the table. It was middle afternoon of a spring day and he was twenty one, yet he went on adding, “I feel so old”.

Mark snorted, because he supposed he had more saying on the matter. He almost complained for Yugyeom bringing this particular topic up, since Mark’s mind was already very busy with one delicate problem right now to add another to the pile. His eyes discreetly diverted to a table a few far from theirs, where Peniel was sitting and chatting with other friends and successfully pretending that Mark didn’t exist.

It was the first time they were at the same space at the same time since they broke up, three months ago. The relationship lasted well for about a year until it drained itself from inside out and things seemed boring, constantly annoying, and it ended on Peniel cheating and Mark finding out; they had a screaming match and ugly, hurtful words being thrown at each other, and that was what sucked most because Mark not only lost a romantic relationship, but also a friend, apparently, if Peniel not talking to him at all was any indication of that.

“Earth to Mark”, he heard Jackson’s concerned voice beside him, a hand shaking in front of his eyes, “Is everything all right?”

Mark just nodded, not really convinced himself. Jaebum had come personally to talk to Mark and inform that he invited Peniel to his wedding, which was nice and thoughtful on his part, and Mark had all the days prior to prepare himself mentally, but nothing our minds can provide ever quite fits reality when it happens.

He saw Jackson stare at him doubtfully from the corner of his eyes, “Are you sure? You are awfully quiet. Not your usual awfully quiet, but the one in which something is bothering you and your brows cease a bit in the middle and your eyes become sort of glassy”.

Mark smiled at that. It certainly required a lot amount of intimacy for someone to be able to catalogue and distingue someone else’s quietness. This, right there, with Jackson, he didn’t have anywhere else. It was possible what always made them overcome any nasty fight they had over so many years, so they could come back to being easy and caring over each other, instead of just letting it all crumble and fall apart. 

“Yeah… I don’t know”, he confessed, “It’s just still recent”. Mark also didn’t need to explain what he was talking about exactly. Jackson understood and heard him with clear attention, “Not that I regret anything, or there’s any feeling involved still, it’s just…”

“Sad”, Jackson finished for him, nodding quietly once. It was not a question. “Endings are always sad”.

“I guess”, Mark conceded, then decided he should stop mopping at one of his best friends’ wedding, of all occasions, and thought that a quick way to that was to drown in that tasty whisky served on the table. He took a large gulp in one motion. From the other side of the table, he saw Jinyoung raise an eyebrow at him and gesture to speak before Bambam cut him,

“If you’re interested in a rebound today, I’ve heard Jaebum has a very hot, very single gay cousin”.

Jinyoung interfered on that instead, “He’s also very _nineteen_ ”.

Bambam shrugged. Mark remembered a time in which Bambam was just that young. Hell, he remembered a time in which _he_ was just that young as well, going to crazy, underaged drinking heavy parties, having Jackson changing from being insecure about asking a hot girl out to being insecure of telling that he sucked off Jooheon’s face - and some other part of his body entirely later on.

“Legal age of consent”, Bambam affirmed, making Jackson laugh beside him.

“I wouldn’t object to a hot, single, gay nineteen years old”, Jackson commented when his laughter subdued.

“Keep it in your pants, you horny dog”, Bambam retorted, “This is about Mark here”.

Now it was Mark’s turn to laugh, and the discomfort of the day dissipated lightly. He strongly appreciated the gesture, his friends supportive randomness, and perhaps at another occasion Mark wouldn’t object to a hot, single, gay nineteen years old either, but he was fine today because it was actually about Jaebum there, entering the ceremony and making vows of eternity with the person he chose to divide his life with.

Everything was more than beautiful and exciting, and Mark drank so much whisky that he could actually realize that he was drunk as fuck, the place and people spinning around him and moving like a nauseating rollercoaster ride. He sat for a moment when the music was too loud, the guests wasted enough to be dancing and shouting lyrics along. On Mark’s left corner Peniel was also drinking and talking to someone Mark didn’t know, and the drunkenness maybe had him staring for too long, because Peniel turned his face and their eyes unconsciously met.

With alcohol came the bravery. Mark nodded to him in acknowledgement, once and timidly, already expecting for Peniel to turn his head away again and leave him feeling hated and stupid. Instead, Peniel offered him a small, almost diplomatic smile, and nodded back. Mark counted it as a humble victory for the day, one that felt great and reassuring, so he grinned to himself and diverted his gaze front to see Jackson dancing in the middle of the wedding party with someone who was very hot, very Jaebum-like, and also seemed very _young_.

Mark raised one eyebrow, amused, at the scenery. Jaebum’s cousin was eager and into it, for which Mark couldn’t really blame him because Jackson could be so charming when he wanted to. It was distinctly different from when he was being his goofy and playful self - that Mark actually thought it was also endearing, to be sincere -, full of intentional glares and sexy sharp expressions. Mark didn’t know if it were the drinks, but he felt himself being overcomed by a wave of warm affection; maybe it was a mix from also sort of making amends with Peniel, that was once even responsible for a huge fight that almost got Jackson out of his daily living.

So Mark raised to his feet again, world a bit more steady after he sat to calm down a little, and walked into the dancefloor, to where his best friend and Jaebum’s cousin were dancing and clearly flirting to a upbeat song. He approached Jackson from behind and carelessly wrapped one arm over his shoulder, pressing a hand upon his chest in a halfway hug.

Mark could feel Jackson getting startled for a fraction of a second until he turned his face and realized it was Mark, after all. Then he just smiled and let himself relax into the embrace, sinking deeper into Mark’s hold, back fully pressed against Mark’s torso and head tilting back to rest idle against his shoulder. Mark realized belatedly that Jaebum’s cousin was throwing him a very annoyed look before turning to his side and starting to dance with another group of people - possibly his friends -, so he had a second to wonder if he should’ve felt guilty for stepping into Jackson’s moment there. The thought didn’t stick too much, vanishing away quickly because Jackson was warm against him, and Mark was drunkenly focused on the fact that he was his best, best friend in the entire world.

So Mark pressed Jackson tighter against his body with his arm, then turned his face to plant a very sloppy, very wet kiss on Jackson’s cheek. It was possible to both hear and feel Jackson’s body movement when he smirked at that.

“I think you’ve drank enough already, my friend”, Jackson commented, amused. He sounded way sober than Mark, at least as how Mark could still conceive reality after so many whiskies, but he was still smiling silly and letting himself limp in Mark’s arms, so he was possibly at least a bit inebriated as well. “Want to head home?”

Mark only nodded in response, unable to form much elaborated words to speak. He lazily lowered his chin to find support on Jackson’s shoulder, and wasn’t sure what exactly in that movement was so difficult, but he stumbled a little bit and held himself together by gripping Jackson’s waist with his other free hand.

Jackson laughed then, at what Mark didn’t know - possibly only at Mark being a drunk, shameful mess that didn’t even know how to _stand_ anymore -, but Jackson’s laughter was always cheerful and bright, and poured that amount of good feelings and vibrations in Mark’s belly when he needed it.

“I love you, you know?”, he found himself saying, perhaps slurring the end of every word, but managing the communication just fine.

Sincerely speaking, alcohol or not, Mark hoped that Jackson knew that much. He said it, once or twice, with that precise phrasing, not just in toxic masculinity speech that made men talk things like _You’re ok, bro, no homo_. But drunken minded Mark thought that maybe once or twice were not enough, really, and Jackson needed to be reminded more of how much he meant to him, on a constant basis. How much he endured from and for him, for so long, but always right there by his side.

Mark felt Jackson’s both hands raise up to hold the arm that was over his chest. He pressed it with a gentle squeeze, then answered,

“I know, Markieu. I love you too.”

And it was nice and soothing, and Mark could feel it.

* * *

VI **If it burns, let it rain**

They were so lucky that Jackson was someone in condition to call a ride for both of them to get out of Jaebum’s wedding party, because Mark was surely not able to even remembers his phone password correctly. When they arrived at their apartment, Jackson was also the one who opened the door, and Mark tried to help, he really did, by finding the light switch to turn it on, but his hand roamed aimlessly over the wall where he was sure the damn thing was and found nothing. He sighed loudly and dramactly and supported his weight leaning heavily on his side by the wall next to the door, while Jackson struggled to lock it without being able to see much in the dark of the room.

Mark felt dizzy from too much alcohol; his head fell forward a bit, closer to Jackson’s body, almost on a magnetic pull. Jackson had been also drinking, and dancing, and moving around since the beginning of the afternoon, but he still smelled so good, a mix of the expensive cologne he put on for the occasion and the pure scent of his skin, familiar and welcoming like home.

Up to many years front Mark couldn’t still say what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all then, despite dozing off with Jackson’s smell and the emmaniting heat of his body. Before he knew it, he took a hold of Jackson’s collar after Jackson finally managed to lock the door, leaned in, and kissed him. Right on his lips; not on his cheek, or his forehead, as he did many times before in their lives.

It was also not the first time for that even. Mark could remember being nineteen, at Jinyoung’s birthday party, Jackson’s face full of rage and resentment, then his lips hard and intended against Mark’s.

But it was also the first time, because it was different, now. Mark was not making a statement, they were not building up this moment in heat of fighting and anger. Jackson gasped in surprise against his mouth because he knew that too. Then Mark insisted, his lips pressing further with an urgency he couldn’t tell he was feeling before, mixed with a sudden desire for Jackson to just _let him, please_. And even with his eyes closed Mark could still feel Jackson’s loud and suffered expiration before he finally opened his mouth and kissed Mark back.

It was good, and warm, and Jackson tasted like champagne, and kissed him like Mark’s mouth was all his mind could focus on, like he needed it for being alive, somehow. Mark pulled him closer with both hands and stepped away from the wall just so he could turn them and pin _Jackson_ against it instead. He heard Jackson leave out a breathless _ah-_ when his back hit the cold surface, fingers tangling themselves in Mark’s hair, and Mark was drunk enough to murmur, like a prayer,

“You taste so good”.

That was when something seemed to snap in Jackson’s brain, so when he lowered his hands Mark thought that they were going to feel him up, as opposed to the hold he felt on his forearms,

“Wait, wait”, Jackson said, a bit hurriedly, but Mark’s hazy mind didn’t listen to it so much as his lips descended the length of Jackson’s neck until stopping at the prominent vein there and licking it before biting it with _want_.

“Fuck”, Jackson breathed out, his body curving forward, towards Mark’s. “My _god_ , your teeth”.

Mark liked how Jackson’s voice sounded, weak and surrendered, and he felt encouraged to lower his right hand over Jackson’s chest, down his belly, until he inadvertently palmed Jackson’s clear half hard erection through his pants. Jackson hissed sharply against Mark’s face, and Mark was about to bite him one more time when he was suddenly held back with more strength than before. He stopped his motions and raised his head, brows furrowed in confusion; Jackson delicately, but still firmly enough held his wrist and pushed Mark away from his body entirely.

“Wait”, he said again. His voice cracked a bit, but he kept his stare decided. There was a pained expression painted over his features, and Mark wondered suddenly if he did something wrong. Jackson looked rightfully wrecked: blown up pupils, red, swollen lips, chest moving fast in visible ups and downs to try to keep his heart frequency controlled. “We can’t do this, love”.

Although Mark was drunk, his mind picked up the endearment, not able to tell if it was _condescending_ , in a way. It sounded different, coming from Jackson’s voice in a moment like this, away from their usual friendliness, but not weird. Somehow it didn’t feel misplaced.

“Uh?”, Mark asked, because _why not?_ It seemed like he spent a lifetime asking Jackson those exact words and getting no satisfactory answer.

Which he didn’t get again this time, because Jackson just pushed him further to detached himself from the wall and from Mark altogether.

“C’mon, you need to get into bed”, he said, taking off his shoes, followed by his coat, that he tossed over at their couch. Mark just stared dumbly at all those movements, and he suddenly felt tired and drunk, so he leaned himself back against the place Jackson just vacated.

“I don’t want to go to bed”, Mark managed to complain after a while, feeling like a little kid, which was plain absurd, because it was not too long ago that he was having mental breakdowns for being already old and having a close friend _marrying._ He was twenty-five, for heaven’s sake. Jackson was _younger_ than him, even if only one year.

Jackson offered a small laugh at his whining, possibly thinking the same. “Trust me, you do”, he affirmed, approaching Mark again to help him remove his own shoes now, then his waistcoat and tie. “C’mon”, Jackson repeated, holding Mark’s hand in his, “Let me get you to your bedroom, then I’ll bring you some water, ok?”

“You’re no fun”, Mark drunkenly complained. It _was_ fun before, when Mark had Jackson against him, making pleasured noises, arching his body, tasting like alcohol and a distinct flavour that should just be Jackson’s. Mark’s hands were still itching with a desire to touch his skin, so many places to explore and see Jackson’s adorable, delivered reactions.

But Jackson only laughed again at him, strained and odd,

“You’re totally not going to find any of this fun tomorrow morning”.

Tomorrow morning felt downright awful. As soon as Mark opened his eyes he stormed to the bathroom and threw up possibly everything he drank _and_ ate the day before that was still being processed by his stomach. His head felt like it was capable of leaving his body by itself and was making an extra-effort of doing so; it ached like hell, and throbbed, and Mark tried to held it in its place with both hands, kneeled over the bathroom toilet like it was his personal lifeboat.

“Well, hello there, sleepyhead”, Mark suddenly heard the greeting, and the cheerfulness alone almost made him throw up some more. He wasn’t able to raise his head to stare at the bathroom door and look at the person talking to him, but he also didn’t need to; there was actually only one possibility. “Feeling all right?”, Jackson amended, and Mark wanted to murder him for it.

Mark just groaned in response. Loud and punctuated.

“I’ll take that as a no”, Jackson laughed. Then Mark could see from his peripheral vision as he came closer and kneeled by Mark’s side. One hand touched his shoulder, almost hesitantly, if Mark was the one to tell. “Here”, Jackson said, voice way more tender than the mocking tone before.

Mark made an effort to look up to what Jackson was offering him and found his hand stretched, a hangover healing pill and a Coke. He felt like he could kiss Jackson’s mouth for it, but then his mind stopped on its track because memories of last night remonted themselves on a mosaic inside of his brain.

 _Shit_. 

Mark’s head ached even more when his eyes widened in realization. It hadn’t really been a dream, had it? Mark could live with a dream, dreams were fine, nice reminders of a well functioning subconscious. But what the fuck could he do with that particular reality? Blow his friendship over awfully, real bad?

He was sure his face coloured red from neck up, yet he tried to breathe and act normal for now; it was already too much having to deal with his body wanting to dismantle from inside out.

“Thanks”, Mark said, cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand and grabbing the salvational pill and beverage. One tentative look at Jackson’s face made him frown, “How come you’re not dying?”

Jackson smiled at him, large and beautiful. Mark remembered wanting to kiss him so bad, everywhere, over and over. He might throw up again. “I didn’t drink the whole bar in one night”.

Mark groaned in response. He took a sip of the Coke and almost felt like it was coming back up through his throat, but he managed to gulp it down. Then he stared back at Jackson, still kneeled by his side, observing and _taking care_ of him after Mark just did whatever that was the night before, so Mark sighed and tried, carefully,

“Jackson...”

There was no time for Mark to think exactly what he was going to say - an apology? A justification? Could he even justify that? - before Jackson cut him,

“I traded my work shift today, so I’ll be going now”, he said, then raised to his feet, “If you need anything, or want to buy something from the drugstore, just give me a call, all right?”

It was plain weird that Jackson traded his work shift for a morning one right after the day of Jaebum’s wedding, when they knew it was going to have drinks and they would probably waste all of their day getting smashed. Mark frowned, confused.

“All right”, he forced out, although it was not, really.

Mark saw with suspicion as Jackson bid him goodbye and left. He knew what that meant pretty well, hangover clouding his senses or not; he had even done it successfully, once before, when they were younger. Mark sighed and let his head fall back against the toilet...

Jackson was totally avoiding him.

* * *

VII **If you miss it, fight for it**

“Seriously, why do you need a… what’s its name again?”

“There’s no special name, Mark”, Jinyoung retorted, tossing another total junk at a cardboard box, “It’s an electric rice cooker”.

Mark eyed it from all angles, “Can I just throw it away and you start making rice using a regular pan instead?”

Jinyoung turned to him and Mark got his answer from his glare alone. He shrugged, putting the electric rice cooker in the cardboard box with the word _keeping_ written on it. “Your problem, more shit to transport and to unpack later”.

Mark took an once over glance at all of the things they had already packed. It was quite a lot, and they possibly wouldn’t make it with only one ride. If it was for Mark, he had dashed half of everything out, but apparently Jinyoung had a sensitive soul about his belongings, and that meant that he clutched to them and their related affective memory like they were people.

After Jaebum moved out of the apartment following his wedding, Jinyoung managed three months paying rent by himself. It quickly escalated to the point in which he was needing to choose between having a place to live or having food to eat and, since he couldn’t give up on any of those, he decided it was time to move out to a smaller, cheaper place. When he found an adequate one, he asked if Mark and Jackson could help him out moving: packing, assembling furnitures, transporting things from the old apartment to the new one with Mark’s car.

Mark said yes, of course, so that was why he was there, now, trying to discover where exactly Jinyoung kept that many shit, in the first place, while still sharing a space with someone else.

“Oh, I’ll definitely charge Jackson on the unpacking part”, Jinyoung affirmed, which made Mark a bit bitter. The week before the scheduled move Jackson had called Jinyoung in apologize because he wouldn’t be able to make it, since it was the exact day of the final swimming competition of his pubescent date, as Jinyoung liked to name him.

Jackson was going out with Jaebum’s cousin for basically the same amount of time since Jaebum’s wedding. The kid got his phone number with Jaebum himself after the ceremony - Jackson must have made quite an impression there, no doubt - texted him, and Jackson just decided that it was a great idea to start going out with a freaking nineteen years old; albeit a very, very hot one indeed. It made Mark’s guts twist a little bit.

“I have my doubts if he’ll be around at that time too”, Mark commented, and he possibly didn’t hold back the harshness of his tone, because Jinyoung turned to him in a careful motion as Mark completed, “It’s capable that he’ll just make up some other lame excuse only because I’m going to be there all day”.

Then Jinyoung dropped his frying pan altogether and stared at Mark with meaning. Mark hated that look; Jinyoung was usually so perceptive that he felt like he was being scrutinized and torn open.

“Are you guys having a rerun of college times?”, Jinyoung asked, then.

Mark could say that he wished it was that simple, but it sure as hell wasn’t simple at that time either. Also, it felt similar, but in a completely different way. For a start, Mark hadn’t kissed the living daylight out of Jackson when they were in college. Lost of what to say, Mark gave a humorless laugh before trying out,

“I mean, almost?”, he shrugged, “Jackson talks to me, but at the same time he _doesn’t,_ if you know what I mean. I didn’t know about that freaking swimming competition before you told me that he wasn’t showing up today. Fuck, I didn’t even know Jaebum’s cousin could swim at all”.

“One could take a guess by his body”, Jinyoung attempted the joke, and it actually made Mark laugh, albeit it felt concomitantly acid because yes, Jaebum’s cousin had an Adonis shape, was very young and handsome and eager, and Jackson was invested in returning his affections. Mark was having a hard time about that, because he didn’t want to ruin his best friendship over a drunken kiss in a random night, at the same time that an insistent place in his mind kept asking _why not me?_

When his laughter subdued, Jinyoung had a firm, serious stare in Mark’s direction, as if he was expecting Mark to continue, to say something else, to say everything Mark just drifted out thinking about. He sighed, then, kitchen utensils long forgotten around him,

“Did Jackson ever tell you?”, Mark asked, voice weak and timid, like he was just caught doing something very morally corrupt, “About Jaebum’s wedding day?”

It was Jinyoung’s turn to sigh. “Look…”, he started, “I don’t necessarily want to get in the middle of this…”, he stopped, seeming unsure of the right word to use, “ _thing_ of you two”. Mark was about to intervene to say that there was no _thing_ at all. “But yes, Jackson talked to me”.

Well, Mark could have guessed that. Jinyoung was everybody’s go to when they needed support. It lashed into him an unhealthy curiosity, though, about what exactly had Jackson talked, since he hadn’t say a word to _Mark_ all those two months, and he was the person directly implied in the situation.

Jinyoung possibly perceived that, because he seemed to think through what he was going to say countless times in his head before giving in,

“He thinks you were upset because of Peniel and reached out to whomever was nearer. Him, in that case”.

Mark’s eyes widened in shock hearing it. “ _What?_ ”, his mouth hung open for a while before he blurted out, indignantly, “No, that was definitely not-”

But then Jinyoung was shrugging, and Mark stopped himself to hear him, “So you should probably tell Jackson what that _was_ instead”.

* * *

VIII **If it brings happiness, keep it**

For his surprise, Jackson was on the couch eating popcorns and watching a tv show when Mark entered the apartment. If anything, he honestly thought that Jackson wasn’t coming home at all the day, under the excuse of some intimate celebration of sorts for the swimming competition of his teenager almost boyfriend.

“Hey, Gaga”, Mark attempted, just to make his presence known. 

“Hey”, Jackson answered, barely glancing at Mark before his eyes went back to the television. “How was everything at Jinyoung’s?”

Mark shrugged, even though Jackson wasn’t looking, “I did my best. He’s not getting rid of all of that old books or vinyls, so we’re going to need an extra day taking it all out”.

Jackson gave a small laugh, “He could kill you just by suggesting it”. Then he turned for a while and raised his phone at Mark’s eye level, “He said I’m in charge of unpacking. _By myself_. You see the nerve of that”.

Mark smirked, taking off his shoes and putting on slippers. He probably shouldn’t ask this, but, “And how was the swimming competition?”

“Wet?”, Jackson joked, quite lamely. Mark rolled his eyes, then heard Jackson complete, “He didn’t win”.

Mark only hummed in acknowledgment, because he honestly couldn’t care less if Jaebum’s cousin was getting swimming medals or not. If they were acting remotely normal, Jackson would be offering detailed information either way, possibly fishing out his phone to show Mark actual video footage of the competition, giving the full profile of the opponents - among a personal opinion or two about their figures -, to end up on some random youtube video of animals doing unexplainable yet adorable things.

But they were not acting normal for the past three months, so when Mark shut his mouth, Jackson offered him only silence in return. The only sound echoing was the one provided by the television, buzzing and distant in the living room. Mark pressed his temple just lightly and, like any other recent day, decided to let it go.

“I’m really tired”, he mentioned. It was a curious thing to say, because it could mean everything that Mark was feeling indeed, physical and mentally. “I’m heading up for shower and then I’ll just sleep. See you in the morning”.

Mark was down the corridor long before he could hear Jackson’s simple “See you” in response. He tried to get things out of his head for a moment, as he showered, and the hot water cascaded relaxing down his back. What Jinyoung told him was honestly really stupid. _Whoever nearer?_ Said the one who got out of Jaebum’s wedding fucking Jaebum’s young cousin. Also, there was absolutely no trail of anything Peniel related in Mark’s mind when he kissed Jackson that night. Mark had a blackout of some of his memories due to the abuse of alcohol, but what he remembered was solely the way Jackson smelled, and how soft his mouth was over his own. There wasn’t a single flash of wanting to be doing that with any other person at all. Mark was not needy, he was _desiring_.

Which was way worse, if he could be completely honest. If it had been just a moment of weakness and loneliness over Peniel’s loss, Mark would be able to toss it out, shake Jackson off of it, laugh and be done. Instead, he was living through a life changing revelation that he _wanted_ Jackson; he was jealous and envy of Jaebum’s cousin because he wished he could kiss him, and touch him, just like at Jaebum’s wedding night.

And, _fuck_ , Jackson was the best friend Mark ever had. Until, of course, Mark realized that it wasn’t friendship actually that he was going for anymore.

So his mind catched up with another part of Jinyoung’s words: _are you guys having a rerun of college times?_ He hated hearing it, worse yet having to acknowledge the similarities. At that time they let it stretch so much that Mark felt like their friendship was entirely gone, and it was too awful because it was as if an important part of Mark’s life was missing.

He didn’t want to get to that again. Hell, he would prefer to think that they’ve matured enough since then to not need to. So Mark finished his bath with a renewed determination, put on some clean clothes, and got back to the living room.

Jackson’s eyes widened grandly when Mark unceremoniously sat beside him on the couch. One of his hand stopped midway to his opened mouth with a bunch of popcorns, and that image almost made Mark laugh. Then Mark said, fast and direct like a bullet,

“I miss you”.

Jackson tilted his head in consideration, and Mark had to stop him right there before he could offer another easy way out,

“Don’t say things are not weird, because you know they are”.

And Jackson sighed, long and slow, target properly hit. Mark saw him putting the uneaten popcorn back on its bowl, so he didn’t have his mouth full to reply, simply and heartfelt,

“I’m sorry”. 

It made Mark really smile, honest and proud of who they were right now, much more grown up and emotionally responsible with each other than two idiotic teenagers getting angry and not talking. 

“Are you hurt by me?”, Mark asked, cautiously, what he wanted to ask since the beginning, since the next day in which he woke up with a deadly hangover and Jackson was lending him pills and a friendly, but distant hand. What he saw as the only possibility, given what Jinyoung just told him.

But Jackson surprised him when he gave a hollow laugh, one hand passing over his hair in nervousness, then said,

“No?”, like that, like it was more a question than an answer, “I mean, not really, no.”

Mark just raised an eyebrow in suspicion, and Jackson laughed again.

“I really am not, swear”, he reaffirmed. Then he put the popcorn bowl on the table so he could adjust himself on the couch to stare at Mark. He opened his mouth to continue, but closed it back again a second before. This was new, seeing Jackson having troubles with words. Ironically felt like they were having reverse roles in this conversation as Mark was the one that kept it going,

“I’m sorry too”, he offered. “About that night”.

Because he was, as far as he invaded Jackson’s space with sudden feelings that he had no idea beforehand if were welcomed. He couldn’t just take things like this, for granted, completely overstepping somebody else. It wasn’t right.

Jackson seemed uncomfortable with the direct mention of Jaebum’s wedding night, even if he knew that that was definitely the main topic of the conversation. Once again they were fidgety around each other talking about kissing men, Mark thought, almost laughing to himself at the continuous cycle, although this time _they_ were the only men involved.

Jackson passed a nervous hand over his hair yet again. “Yeah”, he said. “Yeah, I know. You were really drunk, it’s okay”.

Then what Jinyoung said echoed in Mark’s brain, and he knew he was possibly telling on him with what he was going to say, but it was for an important cause of sincerity and making amends. “It was not about Peniel”.

Jackson’s face coloured surprised; Mark couldn’t tell if with what he said or for knowing what Jackson had been thinking since then. He continued,

“I wouldn’t use you like that. Not even drunk. I want you to know it”.

Jackson exhaled loud and slow. It was almost weird, seeing him so quiet. Maybe it was because it was possibly the first time that they were resolving problems without yells, impatience or bad decisions. Like grown ups.

“I should own you another apologize, too”, Jackson said again after what felt like decades of silence, and Mark frowned, because he couldn’t see why until Jackson went on, “You were _really_ wasted”, he raised one eyebrow in emphasys, and Mark chuckled a bit in agreement, “And yet I still…”, Jackson stopped, motioning at nothing in particular with his hand, “you know”.

Well, if _you know_ was the very nice kisses Mark got before Jackson had the mind to stop, then Mark did know. He laughed openly at Jackson’s awkward attempt, open mouthed and teeth showing, which made Jackson chucke in return.

“Don’t worry about it”. Mark replied. He almost kept going, and said that he had wanted a lot, thank you very much, the same amount as he was wanting now, so close to pulling Jackson over and sealing his mouth into another earth shaking kiss. But he couldn’t, really, because, besides the fact that he could just screw his entirely friendship over, Jackson was _dating_ now, that insufferably hot teenager’s fault. So Mark turned his face quickly to the television instead and asked,

“What is this show about?”

Jackson shrugged, then smiled guiltily a bit, “Wasn’t paying much attention”.

Mark raised a teasing eyebrow at him, “Had a memorable afternoon today?”

Jackson laughed, high pitched and amused. Mark scooted closer, reaching one hand over the back of the couch to press Jackson’s nape lightly with his fingers, on a soothing, caressing motion; a peace offering. Jackson let his head fall back chasing the touch and sighed, still an entertained smile on his lips as he answered,

“I wish”. Then he was the one moving, shifting and turning until he was right beside Mark and could rest his head on Mark’s shoulder, one hand going over Mark’s thigh, fingers playing aimlessly with Mark’s short’s hem. Mark kept the fondling on Jackson’s hair. “When the competition was over I came home because I just couldn’t endure his awfully childish friends, and that’s saying something, because I’m awfully childish myself.” 

Mark laughed. “The perks of having a teenager boyfriend”, he retorted, snarky.

Jackson smacked Mark’s thigh playfully, “He’s not a teenager”.

“Jackson”, Mark countered, fighting down the urge to keep laughing, “He’s _nineteen_ ”.

“Almost twenty”, Jackson shrugged, and Mark could feel it against the side of his own body more than he could see it, “His birthday is next month. Now shut up and let’s watch this damn thing”.

Mark still chuckled a bit, partially by Jackson being the one telling him to shut up, of all people. Yet less about the conversation by itself and more because of the happy perspective of have things minimally adjusted. To understand that he wasn’t going to have Jackson in his life as more than his friend, but to not have _that_ fucked up as well. Either way, even with silence and all that, Mark still didn’t pay much attention to the television, Jackson’s hair soft between his fingers and hand warm over his leg.

* * *

XIX **If you love, show it**

Jackson reached behind to steal, with bare hands, a piece of meat that Mark was preparing for the bulgogi they were going to bring to Jinyoung’s open house party. It was pretty funny, thinking that event through, because once they were so eager when somebody’s parents were out so they could drink like crazy, and now they had their own houses to do what they pleased whenever. Perhaps aging wasn’t all that bad, after all.

Mark was about to protest to Jackson’s pretty unhygienic invasion, though, when he heard him hum in appreciation and say,

“This is so good, Yi-En, you’re a masterchef”.

Mark laughed, then, complaint totally forgotten.

“Better than the tuna sandwiches?”, he asked, eyes focused on the food. The theme became a recurrent inside joke since they once went camping - the same one in which Mark decided to kiss Peniel for the first time - and Mark was the only one to bring food. All other people, young and reckless, had solely a large stock of alcohol, so they passed through an entire day on tuna sandwiches until they could go to the nearest market and buy decent meal.

Jackson swore then that he would never eat tuna sandwich again in his life.

“Anything is better than tuna sandwiches, Mark, you know that”.

Mark just smiled amused in response.

“How come Jinyoung has a new apartment for a month now and only today he’s doing an open house?”, Jackson fakely criticized, opening the refrigerator to start fitting the beers in the thermal bag.

Mark shrugged. “He possibly needed the time to take things out to put _people_ in”.

Jackson gave a loud laughter, “There’s not even that many of us…”, he stopped, eyes looking up to try to recall everyone, “Us two, Jaebum, Jaebum’s wife, Bambam, Yugyeom…”

“Jaebum said his cousin wanted to go”, Mark cut in, playfully, turning his face enough to sneak a peek at Jackson’s reaction, only to find him staring back with _meaning_.

“I’ll _murder_ Jinyoung if he do this to me”. Mark laughed again at the response, attention back to his bulgogi. Jackson then sighed and completed, “It’s bad enough that he’s still calling me every day”.

“He’s in love, Gaga”, Mark offered, hearing Jackson snorting from a distance. To be fair to the kid, it had been only three weeks since Jackson ended things up with him. Jaebum’s cousin was devastated; Mark wondered if it was the first heartbreak of his life, even if he and Jackson were actually only almost dating for measly three months.

Mark felt sorry for him, at first. Then he started to insist so much for Jackson to come back that Mark was annoyed just by seeing it. And Jackson had been even surprisingly nice about it; he still took a time to meet Jaebum’s cousin again after they ended to explain once more and carefully that he wasn’t interested, and it wouldn’t be fair to keep going.

When he told Mark that and Mark asked why he wasn’t interest, anyway, Jackson said that Jaebum’s cousin was great, and funny, and really hot, and those three months were fun and all, but that he was also _too immature_. Mark laughed, and teased about it, of course, because they told him since the beginning. Mark also had a joke or two about Jackson not being able to keep up with the guy’s sex energy anymore. Jackson flipped him a finger every time.

Which was great for _them_ as well, since they were back to their normal routine, no more fidgety and evasive Jackson shutting himself off or avoiding certain conversation topics. Mark was very, very honest when he said that he missed it, missed _him_ , so it felt like his life had fallen back in its rightful place now.

“He must miss your stomach hair”, he teased, speaking of missing things.

Jackson put his head away from the refrigerator to glare at Mark with theatrical indignation.

“Don’t you joke about a man’s insecurity like that”.

Mark laughed again. “Remember high school, when you were so scared of Song Ga-yeon because of it?”

Jackson had the good humour of chuckling at the memory. He closed the refrigerator door for a second to ask, still sounding amused, “How long ago was that again?”

Mark shrugged. “Eight years?”

It felt like yesterday, to be honest. Song Ga-yeon also didn’t have a problem at all with Jackson’s alleged stomach hair at the time, and Mark didn’t end the night helping Jackson throw up. They still didn’t live together back then, so Mark only heard the news of the success from a too excited Jackson the next day. 

“Damn”, he heard Jackson say, and he got that feeling. Time flew. Then Jackson backed away from the refrigerator entirely and his face went way more severe as he repeated, “Damn”.

“I know, right?”, Mark commented. The food was basically ready, Mark was turning off the oven, then he glanced back up and Jackson was standing at the same spot, unmoving, a serious and concentrated expression on his face. Mark frowned, concerned, “What’s wrong?”

“We know each other for ten years”, Jackson replied, which made Mark’s frown deepen, because was _that_ the answer to his question? He just nodded, calmly, and saw still with confusion Jackson passing a hand through his hair before continuing,

“Ten years”, he repeated, as if it just caught him and it was a shocking revelation of sorts. Jackson was staring right into Mark’s eyes, then he said, “Shit, this is possibly not the time or place for it, but _ten_ years, and I still think you’re as gorgeous as when I first saw you”.

Mark was suddenly taken aback. Of all things that Jackson could have said, he was not expecting that one. He had absolutely no idea of what kind of whiplash Jackson was going through, so he smiled tentatively to retort, “You’re very well conserved yourself”. Not even a lie there. To be honest, Mark thought Jackson got even more handsome within the passing years. “No wonder you’re breaking hearts of teenagers”.

It was clearly a joke, like all others they were doing earlier on, but Jackson didn’t laugh. Didn’t smile back. Everything was downright weird.

“This is not…”, Jackson started, then stopped, and Mark just waited in silence for him to continue, as if it could help somehow to encourage him to get it out of his chest already. Jackson sighed, closed his eyes for a second, and, when he opened them back, he also opened his mouth to speak, “The truth is that I think about kissing you. All the fucking time. For, I don’t know, ten years?”

Jackson finished his words with an weak, raspy laughter, and Mark’s eyes widened so much that he thought that his brain was actually malfunctioning there for a minute.

“ _What_?”, was all that he was capable of saying.

“But you were straight!”, Jackson went on, exclaiming, like he was talking to himself, “Until you were suddenly not, but you were kissing somebody else. And then you kissed _me_ ”, Jackson breathed in for a second, “Just like that, but you were drunk as fuck, and there was Peniel, but you said it was not about Peniel at all, and it’s been ten years, Mark, so, _please_ , what was that about?”

Jackson’s torrent of words left Mark speechless for a while.

“Let me get this correctly”, he shook his head a little to try to fit everything in, “What are you saying to me right now is that you _like_ me?”

And _right now_ being as important as the _like me_ part, because Jackson just pretty much listed all of their lives as if he kept his emotions bottled up for so long they overflowed.

Jackson stared firmly back at Mark, eyes unmoving. He nodded. 

“Always have”.

Fifteen minutes ago Mark would never believe that he would be in the middle of his kitchen, surrounded by beer and homemade bulgogi, getting confessed to by his oldest and best friend. The same one for whom he was nutring very much non platonic feelings for the past month. Which apparently wasn’t even that big of a quest, since same friend had been liking him in complete silence for _forever_.

Mark probably spent too long just with his mouth agape as reaction, because Jackson’s voice resounded again, small and timid,

“Are you going to say something?”

Mark recognized these words. They were the same Jackson used, six years ago, low and unsure when he told Mark that he kissed a guy for the first time. Mark remembered him scared then. Remembered him all over Mark’s space and asking for stupid promises when they were about seventeen. Remembered him kissing Mark in rage. Remembered him _refusing_ to kiss Mark just for trying things out. Remembered him angry as hell when Mark was steadily kissing someone else that was also a man and not him. Remembered him hard and undoing under Mark’s hands and lips. Remembered being called _love_.

Was Mark really _that_ blind?

“I would like that”, he attempted. When Jackson just frowned, Mark realized he needed to elaborate better. “You kissing me. All the fucking time”.

Jackson didn’t hold a loud and unbelieving laughter, almost like a high shriek. He shifted in his place, and was still so distant even after Mark just said that he would like to kiss him, c’mon, it couldn’t be possible. Mark was this close to complain when Jackson questioned:

“So what would that make us?”, he didn’t wait for a reply as he added, “Friends with benefits? Boyfriends?”

Mark smiled, then, large and sweet to try to easy Jackson’s insecurity. He raised one eyebrow as suggested,

“Friends with the benefit of being boyfriends?”

Jackson was laughing briefly again, but this time out of pure enjoyment instead of shock. He still had a goofy smile on when he answered, “Sounds good to me”. He nodded in emphasys, then shifted in his place once again before completing, “When do we start?”

It was Mark’s turn to laugh soundly. He shortened the space between them with easy, calm steps, until he was face to face with Jackson, and let his eyes wander from Jackson’s to his lips, right there, so close for appreciation. Jackson stuck out his tongue to lick them in self consciousness and anticipation.

“How about now?”, Mark murmured the answer, barely a whisper.

But Jackson couldn’t just act instead of being the loud, talkative person that he was, could he?

“I can do now”, he affirmed, nodding, gaze fixed on Mark’s mouth. “Now sounds brilliant, actually, you’re an undiscovered genius-”

Mark held him by his neck and kissed him before Jackson could go on forever, and Jackson let a melting whimper pass his lips into Mark’s. There was not shock and surprise this time, nor trace of liquor in the way he tasted, and the world around Mark was not spinning by alcohol, but he felt dizzy, anyway. Jackson held his waist with a firm grip, as if he never wanted to let Mark go from where he was standing, right over Jackson’s body, inside his arms. 

Mark pushed Jackson just lightly until his back hit the refrigerator, and this time Jackson didn’t stop him when being pinned against something. Instead he let out another appreciative sound that went down Mark’s belly within his blood in want.

Their lips parted enough for a second for Jackson to say, hoarse and lustful,

“Can you bite me?”

Mark grinned away from the kiss, grandly amused, and he commented before Jackson could take offense at that,

“You liked that, didn’t you?”

“My god, you have no idea”, Jackson answered, opening a large smile that was so beautiful Mark wanted to kiss it over and over, “Got me all weak on my knees, I thought I wouldn’t be able to move ever again for an instant there”.

Mark laughed out loud, letting his hand go up to Jackson’s hair in a soothing caress.

“I’m sorry”, he apologized once more, like at the time when they were both sitting at their couch and finally mentioning the fact that they had kissed each other. Mark saw Jackson’s brown furrow and his mouth moving to possibly protest, so he explained himself, “I shouldn’t have put you in that position”.

“Yi-En, you can pin me against anything you ever want anytime, I’m all for that position”, Jackson retorted, making Mark laugh again. His face got a bit more serious as he continued, fingers mindlessly tracing patterns on Mark’s hipbone, “But yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s done and over. We add that in my long ass life story of pinning”.

Mark let his head fall on Jackson’s shoulder while shaking with laughter, because he just couldn’t help grinning like an idiot every time he was around Jackson. It was what bonded them together, in the first place: the quiet guy at high school and the one who talked and cracked jokes for two people. So when Mark’s amusement slowly subdued, he turned his head to the side and teasingly scratched his teeth over Jackson’s neck.

Jackson _groaned_ in response. Which was a delightful way of shutting up his usual rambling; Mark could get used to it. He could also get used to Jackson pulling his head back up and kissing his lips in adoration and surrender before speaking again,

“If I blow this thing up somewhere”, and Mark knew that _this thing_ meant they, now, and all the newness that came with those kisses, confessions, caring in different ways from the past ten years of life that they shared, “kick me, and yell at me, but don’t give up on me. Never give up on me. Promise”.

It was the most unrealistic promise Mark was ever asked to make, even if he was counting the one he made to a friend in elementary school about being the first ones to know if the other ever finished an eraser, or the in which Jackson asked him, at high school, to hold his unexisting hair from his face so he could throw up after allegedly being turn down by Song Ga-yeon.

For a start, never was a way stretched period of time. Mark couldn’t foresee anger, and ressentiment, and bad decisions made in the name of those; hell knows they’ve been through all of it throughout their friendship so far, and sometimes the ropes in which they were walking on their path were so thin it felt like they were going to tear up entirely.

“I promise”, Mark answered, though, because he did stupid things around, with or because of Jackson all the time, anyway. “Now just keep kissing me, will you?”

**Author's Note:**

> I miss Markson a lot.


End file.
